Page 8 of Ascension

And then she spoke.

“James.”

My eyes blinked open. I thought I’d imagined it.

“Look at me.”

I looked up, and she was already reaching for the laces of her mask.

My breath caught. “Wait—”

But she didn’t.

She pulled it off and stared down at me with that same calm confidence I’d seen weeks before across a crowded wedding reception. That soft blue dress. That sharp tongue.

Calla.

Calla fucking Black.

Every nerve in my body went still.

“You,” I whispered.

Her lips curved in the faintest smile. “Now you know.”

I couldn’t speak. Could barely think. My mind spiraled back to the night of Maverick’s wedding, me, drunk on bourbon and nerve, cornering her at the bar and trying my best lines.

“You look dangerous tonight,” I’d told her.

She sipped her drink and said, “Only if you’re not careful.” And walked away.

I had no idea. Not a clue that the woman brushing me off that night would be the one to bend me over and fuck me like salvation just weeks later.

Now I’m here, alone, stroking my rigid length to the memory of her voice, her weight behind me, the whisper of her praise against my neck.

I remember the weight of her words when she whispered, “You’re mine,” against my ear.

God, I want to be.

I pump faster, squeezing at the head, my other hand drifting lower to cup my balls and tug gently, just the way she did to keep me grounded. My thighs tense, I’m biting my lip, my hips stroking up into my fist.

I want her strapped again, sliding inside me with her palm pressed to my spine, holding me there like she owns me. I want to beg again. To need again. To break open in her hands and let her put me back together.

And I want her after.

Soft. Solid. Safe.

My moan is low and broken as I stroke harder, chasing the memory of her dominance and the comfort that followed. Her fingers against my neck. The press of her lips against my temple. The power and the tenderness, two halves of the same woman who destroyed me and soothed me all in one night.

The orgasm rips through me like a confession.

My back arches off the bed, and hot ropes of my desire spill across my stomach, her name tangled in a groan that echoes through the room. I pant, squeezing every last drop from the head, my hand trembling.

And then I fall back.

Eyes shut. Body spent. Heart racing like I just lived it allover again.

I wipe myself off, but nothing can wipe away the truth of what happened, what I felt. What I still feel.